All the Missing Pieces (UNDER REVISION)

Seven

            The weekend is slow, that's really all there is to say about it. After I drop James off at Whole Foods, I go to work. When I get there, I remember that my shift does not, in fact, start for another thirty minutes, so I sit in the break room and attempt to do my pre-calc homework. I don't get why James is so scared of me coming over. I told him I could leave early and drop him off at his house, counted on it even, but he refused. I gave myself the extra half hour just in case he invited me in. But he claimed that his house was too messy, and that his dad would be home. I'm really starting to think he doesn't want me over at all.

            I work, then do more homework, then think about James, then work, then go home, then do homework, then watch the Phillies kick the Atlanta Braves in the ass with my dad. (I told him we would win. He didn't believe me). Despite the fact that it's the weekend and I have some time to myself, breaks are scarce. I remained holed up in my room for most of Saturday night waiting for my parents work friends to leave. The last thing I need is nine forty-year-olds cooing over how 'handsome' I am.

            I tried to make plans with Marina, James and Emily on Sunday since I had a morning shift, but none of them were available. I wasn't even disappointed. We'd had so many failed plans from the beginning of the year proved that it was just too hard to try and meet up with everyone unless we'd been planning it for weeks. Someone is always busy. The way this week looks, that's not going to change anytime soon. I'm so busy this week that I barely have room to breathe. I check out my planner, each box filled entirely.

Sunday - Work
Monday - Practice
Tuesday -Spanish Test; Marina - Track Meet
Wednesday - Practice, Work
Thursday - Math Test; GAME DAY!
Friday - English paperSaturday - Prom

            It could be worse, right? I could have two tests and a paper due on the same day. Instead of looking for the silver lining, though, my heart starts racing as soon as I see "prom". It feels unreal somehow, like I'm one of those weird Disney characters in those movies my sister made me watch when she was younger.

•°•§•°•

            When my alarm goes off at 6:45 on Monday morning, the last thing I want to do is get up. The weather has barely cleared up since Friday; a hazy mist blows against my face as I walk out to my car. I throw my smorgasbord of bags into the back of my car, including my baseball bag, two bats, my backpack, a lunchbox and the prom poster for Marina. "Great," I think, "Now I'm going to have glitter all over the back of my car." Small bubble gum pink flakes already reside on my baseball bag. By 7:00, Casey still hasn't walked out of the door yet. I run up to the door. "Casey! Come on, we've got to leave, or you're gonna miss the bus!"
"Sorry!" She calls, "I was putting on makeup." She runs out the front door. "Well, you should have done that earlier, come on!"
"They want to take pictures of the girl's lacrosse team for the website today so I figured I'd look my best." She walks over to the back of the car to throw her bags in as I roll my eyes and scowl at her. "Ah - no." I say. "What? I put my bags in the back every day."
"Not today, Case. My poster for Marina is back there."
"Ha. Your poster for Marina." I sigh. It's moments like these that I wish she'd shut up, but naturally, being an eighth grader, she doesn't. As we back out of the driveway, the teasing begins. She starts with a classic. "James and Peyton sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g." I change the radio station to 70's rock. "First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes- well. I guess you can't make babies." I turn up the volume slowly, "Oh my god, shut up. You're an eighth grader for crying out loud."
"Johnny makes jokes like that all the time."
"Johnny's a sophomore in college, so shut up."
"Ha ha, you love me."
"I totally do not." The torture doesn't even cease when she gets to her stop. It's only five minutes away, but god, if it doesn't feel like an eternity. She gets out of the car and sprints to the bus making kissy faces and pressing her hands to her cheeks. I speed off as fast as I can without hydroplaning.